a basket of wishes
by deathslip
Summary: Serenity couldn't tell him she was a fairy princess, chosen to conceive his child, but then she and her baby must leave the human world or die. Unless...it would take only the one emotion he couldn't give...
1. Default Chapter

A Basket of Wishes  
By: Usagi_serenity_tsukino_hime  
  
Summary  
  
"I am called Serenity. While I am with you I will do whatever you desire."  
  
Clad only in her ankle-length silver-blonde tresses, Serenity lay atop the twelfth Duke of Heathcourte, who was speechless at having been thrown by it's horse and caught by a blue-eyed sprite. She couldn't tell him she was a fairy princess, chosen to conceive his child, but then she and her baby must leave the human world or die. Unless.  
  
Was he mad? Or dead? Suddenly Darien Endymion Shields, of the Midas tough and ironbound heart, wed a naked stranger to stop the burgeoning scandal. But instead of an ordinary duchess to bear his heir, his wife was an alabaster-skinned temptress who drank of his kisses and wept diamond teardrops.  
  
Serenity was made of magic, but only Darien had the power to keep her in his world. It would take only the one emotion he couldn't give. 


	2. a basket of wishes

A Basket of Wishes  
By: Usagi_serenity_tsukino_hime  
  
The power of faerie glittered most brightly on All Hallows Eve, for it was a time of the year when mortal rules were suspended. The tiny inhabitants of the enchanted world were always capricious with their moods, but never more so than on this date. With a twinkle of their eyes, they could grant a bounty of good fortune.  
  
Or a lifetime of doom.  
  
Out of fear and uncertainty, most people remained close to home on this magical night.  
  
Virgil Trinity was not one of them. 


	3. prologue

A Basket of Wishes  
By: Usagi_serenity_tsukino_hime  
  
Prologue  
  
English Countryside October 31st  
  
Panting with exertion, Virgil stopped running and glanced over his shoulder. Across the moonlit meadow glowed the lights of his cottage, where his beloved wife lay dying. Virgil swore he could hear her cries of agony, and vowed to help her at any cost.  
  
Fear fired his determination. He fled into the black woods ahead, instantly blinded by the darkness. Shivering with apprehension and cold, he eased his pace and forced to mind every notion he'd ever heard about the Wee Folk.  
  
"Fairy ring," he whispered. "I must find a ring."  
  
Eyes cast to the shadowed forest floor, he searched for evidence of a flowing circle. Long moments passed; his brow began to bead with the sweat of desperation, and a tinge of hopelessness slowed the frantic beat of his heart.  
  
"Little People," he called, his voice barely louder than the drifting of a cloud. "I beg your help."  
  
He saw nothing. Heard nothing.  
  
Covering his face with his hands, he fell to his knees at the foot of an ancient oak. Stones and gnarled twigs cut into his legs, but he could feel only the painful knowledge that his sweet Peregrine was going to die.  
  
And with her would die their unborn child.  
  
He wept, his tears seeping through his chilled fingers and splashing to the ground. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he perceived eerie changes occurring all around him. The cool night breeze warmed as if heated by sunbeams of high noon. The rustling of the oak, birch, and elder branches became almost musical, a soft, stirring melody that sounded like hundreds of flutes playing in harmony. From between the narrow spaces of his fingers, Virgil saw lights. Among the mist-dampened leaves, the sparkles swirled in a small, perfect circle.  
  
They were here. They'd come.  
  
The fairies.  
  
"Virgil," a small male voice sang out.  
  
Virgil took great care to stay outside the edge of the circle, for he knew that if he stepped inside the dazzling ring he would be pulled into the world of faerie with little chance of escaping. Crouching lower to the ground, he strained to see the fairies. He saw nothing but the leaping shimmers of light, but remembered suddenly that the Wee Folk could quickly turn themselves into human form.  
  
He edged away.  
  
"Speak now, Virgil," the voice demanded, "or the aid you seek will be swiftly denied you."  
  
Virgil took note of the authority that laced every word the tiny voice spoke. "My wife," he blurted out, more tears slipping to the ground. "Pegeen. The babe---the babe won't come. It' been near two days, it has. Please."  
  
"What would you be willing to sacrifice to save the child and it's mother?" the voice asked.  
  
"Anything," Virgil answered impulsively, clasping his hands together as if in prayer. "Anything you ask."  
  
He saw the sparkles come together on the dark ground to form one large ball of gleam, and he realized the Little People were discussing the bargain. Silence ensued, and then the lights separated once more.  
  
"In return for the life of your wife and child," the voice finally said, "I demand a betrothal. One of your descendants must wed one of mine. Do you agree to these terms, Virgil Trinity?"  
  
Virgil took not a second to ponder the fairy's stipulations. "Yes, oh, yes!"  
  
The lights glowing among the leaves grew brighter, so bright that the Virgil could not bear to look at them any longer. He shut his eyes.  
  
"Your plea is granted," the small voice announced. "Pegeen is delivered of a fine healthy girl."  
  
Virgil shook with happiness, but he didn't respond. The Wee Folk shunned gratitude.  
  
"Go now, Virgil Trinity, and raise your daughter, but speak of our bargain to no one," the fairy instructed. "Although you will have naught to do with its fulfillment, you may be sure that the promise you have made on this night shall come to pass."  
  
His eyes still shut, Virgil rose from the ground, raced out of the woods, and bolted across the wide, grassy field. When he finally arrived in the front yard of his cottage, the proof of fairy magic lilted into his ears with the lusty wails of his healthy newborn and Pegeen's cries of joy.  
  
Clapping his hands together, Virgil laughed and danced around the yard and saw that in the distant woods the fairy lights continued to shimmer faintly.  
  
In return for the lives of your wife and child, I demand a betrothal.  
  
Still dancing, Virgil nodded as he remembered the fairy's words.  
  
A betrothal.  
  
Suddenly, his dancing stopped, his laughter faded. Now that he was assured of Pegeen's and his daughter's well-being, the true significance of his agreement with the fairies came to him at last.  
  
He groped for the fence and leaned against a wooden post, and his forehead beaded with sweat once more. Was it his infant daughter who would one day marry into the enchanted world? Would it be one of his grandchildren? Great grandchildren? He could not begin to guess, for the fairy voice had given no hint whatsoever.  
  
All he knew for certain was that the rash and desperate promise he'd given only a short while before had irrevocably doomed someone of Trinity descent to the powerful clutches Faerie. 


	4. chapter 1

A basket of Wishes  
By: usagi_serenity_tsukino_hime  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Darien Endymion Shields, the twelfth Duke of Heathcourte, had concluded that there wasn't a female in the world who met the requirements he'd set for the woman who would be his duchess.  
  
"Bloody Hell," he muttered. Swallowing his second glass of brandy, he reached out and stroked his pet cat, Fiore, a sleek Siamese who tolerated no one but Darien.  
  
"What's on the boil?" Darien's cousin, Jadeite Branford, asked, confused by Darien's sudden curse. They'd been discussing Darien's recent purchase of a mine in Egypt, but obviously Darien's thoughts were elsewhere now.  
  
Jadeite pondered the mine a moment longer. Darien had bought it for no other reason other than a passing suspicion that the pits might yield treasure, purchasing it right beneath the nose of a second interested buyer. Not only had the miners discovered emeralds within those dark, damp, Egyptian caverns, but authorities claimed the mine to be one of the richest ever found. Practically overnight, the vast Shields fortune had tripled.  
  
Yes, in many ways Darien led a charmed life, even as a boy. Once, when he and Jadeite were running through a field of wildflowers, Darien had spotted a sprinkling of tiny diamonds within the mass of trodden blossoms. Only Darien Shields could have found jewels scattered amidst a lot of broken weeds. Since then, everything he touched had turned to wealth.  
  
Sipping his own brandy, Jadeite felt the familiar spark of envy flicker through him, but since he bore no ill will toward his cousin he didn't feel a jot of guilt over his bit of jealousy. He'd decided long ago that only a saint of the highest heavenly order could resist coveting the title, riches, and power of the illustrious Duke of Heathcourte.  
  
He leaned forward on the satin settee by the fire. "I've often thought you were born under a lucky star, Darien. You were never even been stung by a wasp, do you remember? Whenever we came upon the vicious creatures, it was almost as if they were blown away from you. Why, even the snakes we found that day near the pavilion slithered out of your way!"  
  
Darien turned a sideways glance toward his cousin, a devil-may-care chap whose thick sandy hair was forever tousled and whose blue eyes, lighter in shade than his, were almost always filled with a mixture of mischief and merriment. A relative from Darien's mother side, Jadeite didn't possess a drop of Shields blood or any other rightful claim to a place among England's peerage, but the unshakable bond between them was something no member of the nobility ever dared to ignore.  
  
Jadeite was the only family Darien had.  
  
"Darien? Do you remember the snakes?"  
  
"Snakes?" Darien frowned. "What the devil are you talking about?"  
  
"I might ask the same of you," Jadeite answered, flashing a lopsided smile. "In fact, I think I did."  
  
Darien reached for a bottle of brandy.  
  
"Women," Jadeite guessed suddenly. "Your lack of a duchess always drives you to drink. One thought of the elusive lady turns you into a regular ale knight." "Jadeite, I am in no mood for any of your cheek. Furthermore, the subject of my love life is not up for discussion."  
  
"The deuce, you say!" Jadeite laughed. "Darien, your love life is the discussion, the most talked about subject in all of England. Why, I even heard it said that the queen herself once wondered why you could not seem to pick a bride from the masses of beauties the season produces year after year."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"Sapphire Marxton can barely wait for you to wed."  
  
"Sapphire Marxton." Darien said, pondering the disreputable womanizer. "So he desires the chance to seduce my wife, does he?"  
  
"It's his hobby, as you well know. Just last month he succeeded in enticing Lord Villier's new bride into meeting him in the garden during a small gathering that the Dunmores gave. Harold Villier is still none the wiser. Neither is Thacker Ainsbury. Rumor has it that Cherise Ainsbury is still seeing Sapphire whenever possible."  
  
"If Sapphire Marxton dares to look at my wife---"  
  
"Seducing a woman who doesn't exist would be quite a feat."  
  
Darien poured more brandy. Liquor wouldn't get him a bride, but it for damn sure would help him forget he didn't have one.  
  
Accustomed as he was to having everything he desired the moment it occurred to him to want it, he simply could not fathom why the trivial task of choosing a duchess proved so infuriating.  
  
He'd been overtly watching society's marital offerings ever since his twenty-eighth birthday, when he'd first decided the time had come to marry and produce an heir. He was thirty-two now and had yet to encounter a single woman who suited him.  
  
Damn it all, finding the perfect wife should have been as effortless a goal to accomplish as any and all he'd ever undertaken.  
  
And yet...  
  
He shook his head. "Finding a basket of wishes would be far easier," he murmured.  
  
Running his fingers through his wavy hair, he glanced at his surroundings.  
  
The green salon was a lofty room, it's elaborately sculpted ceiling supported by pink marble columns. Four exquisite crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, their sparkles of light dancing upon the silk draperies and magnificent gilt chairs, all of which were a warm shade of moss green.  
  
This room had been his parent's favorite. A pity Their Graces had rarely been home long enough to truly enjoy it, Darien thought.  
  
"You know, Darien," Jadeite said, "you're getting quite the reputation for being a man utterly impossible to please. There are many who say that if the goddess of love and beauty herself appeared before you, you would spurn her." He rose from the settee and joined his cousin in front of the huge window. Careful not to stand too close to Fiore---who was watching him with glacial green eyes full of promise of violence---he helped himself to a glass of Darien's brandy. "People are trying to imagine the woman who will finally appear in your life and win you over. And it's not only your peers who wonder, but your tenants and servants as well."  
  
Darien twirled the stem of his snifter, watching the brandy slosh around the sides of the delicate glass. "I'm glad to hear I've provided everyone with such entertainment."  
  
"Entertainment?" Jadeite smiled wryly. "You don't know the meaning of the word. You have no interest other than those related to the Amberville Estate.  
  
"With the exception of my need for an heir, I am satisfied with my life exactly as it is."  
  
"You have no life. And if you don't mind my saying---"  
  
"Mind?" Darien set his glass down on a silver tray. "Since when have you cared whether or not I mind your perishing interference? It has become increasingly more apparent that you've damn all else to do. If I weren't so daft as to consider you a friend, I would have you barred from this house so I could enjoy a bit of peace."  
  
Gleefully, Jadeite continued with the dressing-down, an admonishment he gave his cousin at least once a month.  
  
For all the good it did him. "Darien, this place already resembles a mausoleum. If you were to obtain any more peace than you already have, you would be a corpse. And that is the top and bottom of it."  
  
"But I've no doubt you will soon get to the middle."  
  
"Spot on." Jadeite clasped his cousin's broad shoulder. "Dedicated cousin that I am, I have been doing a bit of research on your behalf. Some observing and interrogating, if you will, and I have decided that Edith Hinderwell and Caroline Pilcher would suit you admirably. Caroline stands to inherit her maternal grandmother's fortune you know. No small sum if the hearsay is to be believed."  
  
Darien feigned an expression of excitement. "You don't say? Well, pauper that I am, I imagine I should ask for the lady's hand straightaway. "  
  
"What? Oh. Yes, Caroline's inheritance would be but money for jam to you. But perhaps you could find it in your heart to marry her and give her grandmother's money to me? It's frightfully difficult living on the pittance I make as an investor."  
  
Darien retrieved his brandy, took a sip, and looked at Jadeite over the rim of the glass. Most men could live quite comfortably on the money Jadeite made from his various investments, all of which Darien had advised him to make. Of course, most men did not possess the passion for such an extravagant lifestyle.  
  
But Darien understood that it wasn't greed that caused his cousin's relentless fascination with money and luxurious possessions. Rather, it was the unforgettable memory of a destitute childhood.  
  
"Are you in need of funds, Jadeite?"  
  
Jadeite felt poignant emotion well up in him. But for Darien, he'd still be in Mallencroft plowing the same fields his father had, living in the same crumbling cottage he'd been born in, and wondering day after day if there would be enough food on the table to assuage his hunger.  
  
But Darien had intervened, and Jadeite loved his cousin like a brother. Indeed, there was nothing he wouldn't do or dare to help him find happiness, an emotion that became more alien to Darien with each passing year. "What I need," Jadeite began softly, "is for you to find true contentment you deserve, but so eludes you."  
  
Shifting uneasily, Darien bowed his head and stared at the raspberry colored carpet. He never knew how to respond to Jadeite's affection.  
  
Nor did he know how to express his own. "Might I remind you that you have yet to find wedded bliss, either?"  
  
Jadeite shrugged. "I'm not in your position. I've no important title to bequeath to an heir."  
  
"Borrow mine for a while."  
  
"Would that I could."  
  
Darien smiled. Jadeite had longed for a title for as long as he could remember. Alas, a title was the one thing that Darien was unable to procure for him.  
  
"We wandered from the subject, Darien. Where was I?"  
  
Darien sighed. "Caroline's inheritance."  
  
"Ah, yes. Very well, cousin, you don't need Caroline's inheritance. But what do you think of her personally?"  
  
"She owns a python. Quite the most outlandish choice of pet I have ever heard of."  
  
Jadeite glanced at Fiore. "A python is a much safer pet to own than that hairy ball of evil you have. I shall never forget that time he sprang off the mantel in your office, landed on my chest, and attempted to take a bite out of my Adam's apple. He would have ripped my throat out if I had not dumped that pitcher of water on him. The conceited beast cared more for his wet fur than eating my neck, thank God for that."  
  
"Nevertheless, a cat is a normal pet."  
  
"You once kept a lizard---"  
  
"I did not have the lizard as a pet, but only because my schoolmaster was having me study the creature's eating habits and---"  
  
"You loved that lizard."  
  
"One cannot love a reptile."  
  
"Why ever not?"  
  
"And not only does Caroline own an absurd pet," Darien added, refusing to discuss the possibility of emotional bonding with a lizard, "but she also enjoys riding."  
  
Jadeite clutched at his chest, as if shock had almost stopped his heart. "Riding? Dear God, she should be beheaded for committing such a heinous crime!"  
  
"I do not object to her riding, but I once overheard her say that she has long wanted to know what it would be like to perform equestrian stunts in a circus. Such a longing is completely unorthodox."  
  
"A fact I feel certain she understands. She merely wonders about riding in the circus, can't you understand that? I've always wanted to wrestle a crocodile, but that does not mean I'd jump into a swamp to satisfy my desire."  
  
"Wrestle a crocodile, Jed? Why in God's name---?"  
  
"To see if I'm strong enough to win the match, naturally."  
  
"Naturally." Darien rolled his eyes.  
  
"Perhaps you should renew your courtship with Beryl Chesterton?" Jadeite suggested, tapping his chin. "She's a beautiful woman, and to the best of my knowledge, she doesn't have a pet and has never mentioned the circus. Every time I see her, she asks about you. It's quite obvious that she believes there was more to your relationship with her than you will acknowledge. Do you know that her father confided that she has refused all other suitors, including Lord Diamond Wyndham?"  
  
"Diamond." Darien frowned a frown that nearly knit his eyebrows together as he pondered his only rival, the duke of Bramwell, an avaricious and ruthless man who had done his utmost to finish the destruction of the Amberville estate that Darien's father had begun.  
  
He hadn't succeeded.  
  
And Darien swore that Diamond would never even come close. "Tell me, Jadeite, is that hairy popinjay still out of sorts over the emerald mine."  
  
Jadeite smiled too. "Word has it that when he learned that you'd outbid him, he locked himself in his rooms and didn't come out for a week. He cannot stand the fact that you are the richest nobleman in England and he the second."  
  
"I've my eye on the vast fruit orchards in Gloucester now," Darien said, still smiling. "They say money doesn't grow on trees, but the saying doesn't apply to these groves. If I know Diamond, he's investigating the same orchards."  
  
"Most likely. Moreover, I imagine he's beside himself wondering if Beryl will ever look at him the way she looks at you. When you were keeping company with her, he was a mass of red-hot rage and cold green jealousy."  
  
Darien sat down in the ladder-back chair next to the window. Staring at the molded ceiling, he summoned Beryl's image to mind. "I've toyed with the idea of marrying her," he allowed himself to admit. "But she...there's something about her. Something...carefully as she tries to hide it, she's of a grasping nature."  
  
"A grasping nature? Do you mean she's interested in your name and estate? I covet your title and fortune, too. Why not cast me aside as well?"  
  
Darien took a while to answer. Not because he did not know what to say, but because it was terribly difficult for him to put his feelings into words. "You may envy me my title and fortune, Jed, but I've no doubt that if I were to lose both tomorrow you would not think less of me."  
  
Jadeite nodded. "True, but only because I know you would somehow earn another title and another fortune."  
  
Unable to help himself, Darien chuckled.  
  
"What is this I hear?" Jadeite asked, cupping his hand over his ear. "Could it actually be that I am being treated to the rare sound of Amberville mirth? A pity I cannot bottle the sound, for I feel sure I could make my own fortune selling it to the multitude of people who do not believe it exists."  
  
"How amusing. You know, I think I heard it said that the queen is in dire need of a court jester. Perhaps you should apply for the position?"  
  
"And neglect my obligation to assist you in finding a duchess? Consider seeing Beryl again."  
  
Darien rubbed his shoulder. "I'll give it some thought, but---"  
  
"And think about Edith Hinderwell, too. She's quiet and docile. I've never seen her do anything odd. She's a plain thing, too. Although her father can afford the very best for her, her gowns are simple, and she wears hardly any jewelry. In my opinion, that indicates that she cares little for material possessions."  
  
"She indulges in superstitious nonsense. Last year at Lord Tremayne's birthday gala, I saw her gazing out the window with such an intense expression on her face that I was certain she was seeing some ghastly occurrence. She informed me that she was merely wishing on stars."  
  
Jadeite moved closer to Darien's chair. "Come now, Darien, there is nothing peculiar about wishing on stars. When we were lads I taught you how to do it, and we wished on dozens of them. We collected four-leafed clovers, put pennies in our shoes, and looked for the end of the rainbow to find the pot of---"  
  
"The stuff of childhood, and no wish I've ever made came true. And if my memory serves me correctly I ceased to believe in such absurdities long before you did."  
  
Jadeite rubbed the bit of stubble on his chin. "Well, actually I haven't quite overcome my belief in wishing on stars. Only last night, I waited for the first star to appear in the sky and wished for a mountain of gold."  
  
Darien stared at his cousin. "You didn't."  
  
Jadeite tipped his glass over his mouth, watched one last drop of brandy fall to his bottom lip, then licked it off. "I did."  
  
"And do you believe that such dreams will come true simply because you wished on a hot ball of gas?"  
  
Such sadness for Darien came over Jadeite at that moment that he had to restrain himself from hugging his cousin. "What I believe is that when one ceases to believe in wishing---"  
  
"One dies. I know your speeches by heart, Jed."  
  
"You may know my speeches by heart, but it is obvious that you have not taken them to heart."  
  
Darien resigned himself to yet another of Jed's incessant lectures, but he couldn't stifle a yawn.  
  
"Bored, cousin? Well, I can certainly understand why. I've stayed here at Heathcourte often enough to memorize your monotonous routine. You awaken at seven, and bathe at seven and a quarter. You dress at precisely ten until eight, and breakfast at eight-thirty. You're in your office by nine on the dot, and---"  
  
"You---" "On Monday evenings your cook knows that the main course is to be leg of mutton with oysters. On Tuesdays your dinner is always sirloin of beef, served only after you have finished your partridge soup, of course. Wednesdays are lobster nights, Thursdays---"  
  
"What in God's name is wrong with dining upon certain foods on certain evenings? The meals are all quite to my liking, and I see no reason why---"  
  
"And you want a wife similar to your weekly food calendar. You objected to the women I mentioned because they all want, do, or have something you consider unconventional. In a word, your duchess must be boring."  
  
Darien bristled. "I hardly think that a wife who is simple in character is boring."  
  
"You want a woman as indifferent to the spice of life as you are," Jadeite continued heedlessly. "Who not only follows your dry-as-dust routine, but who embraces the ho-hum rhythm of the Shields household. And she'll place little importance on your name and wealth. Rather, she will devote her every waking moment to you and your children, possessing no other interests whatsoever. She'll---"  
  
"Damn it all, Jadei---"  
  
"I know why you desire such a wife."  
  
"And why wouldn't you?" Darien snapped. "You know everything else about me, do you not?"  
  
Jadeite marched toward the fireplace. There he picked up a gold oval frame that contained a painted miniature of the former duke and duchess of Heathcourte.  
  
"Damien and Terra Shields," he said, holding the frame high in the air. "Terra's love of exotic adventure is still mentioned every now and again among older members of the ton. They say Damien indulged Terra's every whim and took her to climb snowy mountain peaks halfway around the world. He granted her wishes to ride elephants through snake-infested jungles, hunt for long-lost buried treasure on eerie deserted islands, and sample live termites on a stick with savages who wore shrunken heads around their necks and slivers of bone through their nostrils."  
  
"I am well aware of the details concerning my parents' travels---"  
  
"No Darien, you are not. Nor is anyone else. Your mother and father traveled so frequently that they had little time to describe their grand adventures to anyone, including you. They were gone for months at a time, and when they returned they stayed home but for a short while before leaving on yet another bizarre venture."  
  
"Why do you do this, Jed?" Darien demanded. "I'm convinced that you lie abed at night with paper and pencil, jotting down all the many ways you can succeed in rousing my temper."  
  
Jadeite shrugged. "A frightening task, but someone has to do it." He placed the frame back on the mantel and, with his hands clasped behind is back, he paced around the room. "Terra's incessant craving to see the world made your own world a very lonely one. Her obsession with the unusual---which was what compelled her to make her wild excursions---gave you an intense need for the conventional. And her adoration of your father's riches made you suspicious of anyone the least bit curious over your wealth."  
  
Jadeite stopped beside the sofa, picked up a pillow, and ran his thumb over the swirling embroidery. "Rebellion, that's what has driven you to become the man you are," he said softly. "Your life now is much like a revolt against uncomfortable memories. After all, a lad who is made to eat peas when he doesn't like peas is going to be a man who will never allow a pea in his house."  
  
"Peas? That is the most absurd---"  
  
"Perhaps, but it describes what's happened to you." With a flick of his wrist, Jadeite tossed the embroidered pillow back on the settee. "Don't you see, Darien? Everything you do is in direct defiance of something you were forced to bear as a lad."  
  
"You have said outside of enough, Jed." Darien rose from his chair.  
  
Noticing the expression on Darien's face, Jadeite realized it was not his cousin he was seeing, but the forbidding duke, a man whose cool demeanor veiled a volatile temper.  
  
And a gravely wounded heart. "Darien---"  
  
"No more!"  
  
"Ever the bitter duke, eh? What do you have for breakfast in the mornings? A jug of vinegar?"  
  
"Kerosene," came Darien's quick reply.  
  
"I'd suggest you try lemon juice every now and again, but such a change might pull you from the culinary rut you're in." Pulling at his shirt cuffs, Jadeite headed for the door. "I know how bereft you will feel over the loss of my captivating company, but I must make my leave. The weather's set is fair, and I'm off to the Thirlway picnic. Lord and Lady Thirlway so enjoy entertaining outside in autumn. Oh, and if I'm not mistaken, there is a cemetery not far from the Thirlway estate. Perhaps I'll find you a wife there."  
  
Darien smiled. "I'll speak to the queen. I'm sure that if I recommend you, she'll hire you as her court jester."  
  
Laughing, Jadeite executed a low, sweeping bow. "Good day, Your Grace. I leave you with your friends, Monotony, Dreary and Boredom. And good day to you too, Fiore," he said to the cat. "I leave you with your friends, Vile, Hateful, and Wicked."  
  
When his cousin was gone, Darien stared at the empty threshold for a moment, and then slowly moved his gaze to the gold frame on the fireplace mantel.  
  
His parents' likenesses looked back at him. Both were dressed in the garb of Mexico, Damien wearing a sombrero, and Terra wearing a gaily embroidered white peasant blouse. Both were smiling, obviously enjoying themselves immensely.  
  
Darien remembered their trip to Mexico. He'd been seven then. Maybe eight. His mother had actually been given permission to fight a bull in Mexico City, a favor granted after his father had bribed the authorities with a veritable fortune, Darien wanted to know everything about bullfighting when his parents returned from the trip.  
  
But Terra had been too busy talking Damien into the next journey---a trip to some tropical island whose name now escaped Darien. There, she'd walked on hot coals with the natives and had had her nose pierced. From then on, she'd worn a ruby in her left nostril.  
  
Darien never did hear about the bullfighting.  
  
A sigh gathered in his chest. He left the room, sent orders for his stallion, Hades, to be saddled, and was ready to ride before the stable lads brought his horse around to the manor house. After ten minutes, he was too impatient to wait any longer and stalked out of his palatial home toward the barns. A cold November wind blasted into him, ruffling his hair and the colorful mass of pansies that bloomed along the edges of the pebbled trail that led to the stables. His boots scraped through the glistening white stones, the sound grating in his ears.  
  
Swiping at the red and yellow leaves that blew into his face and settled on his shoulders, he didn't notice the small wooden cart of pumpkins blocking his path, and walked straight into it. The vivid orange fruit tumbled to the ground, creating a course of obstacles that further tested his patience.  
  
When he finally arrived at the barn, he saw that the groom had yet to complete the task of readying the coal-black stallion.  
  
"Sorry, Yer Gr-Grace," Hopkins said, his stuttering made worse by the duke's intimidating bearing. "He's---he's a b-bit skit-skittish t-today. It's the snap in the air, I vow." Quickly he finished tightening the saddle girth, then handed the gleaming reins to the duke.  
  
As Darien slowly worked Hades into a pounding gallop through the countryside, he pondered his cousin's description of the future duchess of Heathcourte.  
  
Jadeite had not been far off the mark.  
  
But there was one little vow Darien had made concerning his bride, one that Jadeite had failed to discern.  
  
Darien's lips narrowed into a tight line as he dwelled on the memory of his father. Before Damien Shields' marriage to Terra, he'd been one of the most powerful men in all of Europe, concentrating intently on the Shields holdings and fortune. But marriage had changed everything. So in love with Terra had Damien been, he'd ignored all responsibility to the family name.  
  
And then Terra had died.  
  
But even after the exotic trips and squandering of money had stopped, Damien had continued to ignore his estate and his heir. Engulfed by sorrow, he'd locked himself away from the entire world and had followed Terra to the grave seven years later.  
  
Darien gripped the reins so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Grief had eventually killed his sire, first in mind, then in body. And love had been the reason for such profound and fatal anguish. Of those things, Darien was certain.  
  
And so, whoever his very ordinary and unassuming wife would be, Darien had sworn not to love her. 


	5. chapter 2

A basket of Wishes  
By: usagi_serenity_tsukino_hime  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Sparkles swirling in her wake, Serenity moved away from the small mound of earth beneath which her father's glittering kingdom lay hidden. As she stepped soundlessly through the brittle fall leaves that blanketed the forest floor, her silver-blonde curls shimmered down the full length of her bare body, and each of her movements sent the sweet scent of spring wildflowers into the autumn air.  
  
She'd escaped the assembly her father had called. As the eldest princess, she knew she was supposed to pay strict attention to the affairs that affected Pillywiggin---the province of Faerie her father ruled---but such issues very nearly put her to sleep. Besides, she mused, her sister would be present at the court gathering, and Raeiana could tell her everything later.  
  
At that thought, Serenity frowned. Rae would consent to nothing if it would not in some way benefit her. Although it was simply not in Serenity not to care for Rae, she sometimes wondered why her tempestuous sister had been given a name that implied peace and benevolence. Why, only three days ago Rae had taken great delight in tying a donkey's tail into a hopeless mass of elf knots. The beast hadn't seemed to care, but its poor owner had had a terrible time combing out the tangles. Raeiana enjoyed tormenting humans.  
  
Serenity could not understand why. To her, humans were the most intriguing creatures in existence.  
  
She stopped beside a massive oak, leaned against the tree trunk, and peered down at the blades of emerald grass that barely reached her slim ankles. Little gave her more pleasure than her powers of shape-shifting. It wasn't that she minded her original size---which was about the same as the span of a large butterfly's wings---but she adored being statuesque.  
  
She smiled a secret smile, knowing full well that her pleasure in being tall stemmed from her fascination with humans---most especially the human man who lived nearby.  
  
Breathing deeply of the cool, woodsy air, she couldn't suppress a shiver of excitement. "He's going to be near today, Pegasus," she murmured to her enchanted pet. "That handsome human who makes me glow!"  
  
She looked down at her pet, frowned, and then grinned. A scant hour ago Pegasus had been a tawny deer. Now he was a swan, standing near her feet preening his snowy feathers. "What's the matter, Pegasus? Can you nay decide what you want to be today?"  
  
Pegasus rubbed his soft head over her bare calf, then returned to the task of cleaning his feathers.  
  
Still smiling, Serenity thought of the handsome human again. She had no idea who he was, but she always knew when he would be near enough to watch. A lovely feeling passed through her, whispering that he was coming. She'd felt it from the first time she'd ever seen him, when he was a young boy and she a fairy child, and she'd watched him ever since.  
  
Except for the period of five years, when he'd suddenly disappeared. She hadn't thought to ever see him again, but one day he'd returned, and he'd been more handsome than ever.  
  
For as long as she could remember, she'd yearned to have him for her very own. If he belonged to her, she could keep him in her father's palace and gaze at him as often and long as she pleased instead of having to wait for him to appear. She'd grant all his wishes and give him joy as well, for she'd had more than one glimpse of the strange grief that festered inside him.  
  
But short of stealing him away, she didn't know how to acquire such an extraordinary possession.  
  
She floated to the edge of the forest, looked out across the fields, and continued to ponder the man she waited to see. With hair as dark as the inky lack ravens that soared through the heavens and eyes the color of the sky at midnight, he was the most beautiful living thing she'd ever seen. And his vigor amazed her. He never lost strength the way the fairies did, but could ride his huge ebony horse for hours without tiring.  
  
He even looked strong, with so solid a body that Serenity was sure would feel like a stone if she ever had the opportunity to touch him. Such sturdiness was unfamiliar to an ethereal being like herself.  
  
She looked down at her fluid form. Her translucent skin glowed, while human skin did not. She moved in an aura of brightness. Humans cast shadows.  
  
"And humans must be very heavy," she told Pegasus. "Sweet everlasting, even wet I barely weigh more than a handful of stars."  
  
"Serenity!" King Wisdom's voice boomed through the forest.  
  
Serenity whirled around and saw her father, Raeiana, and a host of Pilliwiggin's peers standing before her. They, too, had used their powers of shape-shifting and stood as tall as she.  
  
None were smiling at her. All were staring, some with awe, some with envy, and others with sympathy.  
  
A vague feeling of foreboding passed through her as she watched her father stride forward. His knee-length white hair and beard fell over his round, bare body like a swath of frost, and the very ground upon which he walked began to shine like silver. "Father?"  
  
"Serenity, you did not attend the assembly I called."  
  
"She should be punished," Raeiana bit out. "If I were her father, I would--- "  
  
"But you are not her father, I am." The king gave a great sigh, contemplating the differences between his daughters. Raven-haired, violet- eyed Raeiana found her happiness in rendering gloom. Indeed, she'd done much in the way of encouraging the human fear of Faerie.  
  
But Serenity, with her molten gold tresses and huge silver-blue eyes, found her greatest joy in bestowing kindness on all living things, guarding flowers and animals, and even protecting the stars that humans were forever wishing upon.  
  
The king worried about her, for the mortal world could be a very sinister place, especially to one as innocent as Serenity.  
  
And the mortal world was exactly where he had to send her.  
  
"I'm sorry your mother couldn't be present to hear my all important announcement, Serenity," he began, "but she hasn't yet returned from her mission. I believe she mentioned that her last stop was somewhere in Australia."  
  
"Wrong, Father," Rae stated firmly. "Twas America. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to be precise." "Well, forgive me for my geographical error, Raeiana," the king flared. "I'm sure it delighted you to correct me." Reaching out, he placed his hand on Serenity's arm. "The time has come to fulfill the betrothal made by my grandfather, Serenity."  
  
Serenity's eyes widened as she dwelled on the extreme importance of the betrothal. Having been told the story many years before and every year since, the tale was engraved on her heart, as it was with all the Pillywiggins.  
  
Faerie was of fragile and ancient ancestry, and over the centuries the delicate race had continued to weaken. As a result, the number of fairy babies born had steadily declined. By contrast, humans were strong and fruitful in offspring, and it had been Serenity's great-grandfather who had devised a concrete way to obtain such strength and fertility for the Pillywiggins. He'd realized that a union between a human and a fairy would result in children who would fortify the enchanted race with human vitality.  
  
Everyone knew the union was the only way to save the kingdom of Pillywiggin, but no one had ever been aware of which Pilliwiggin monarch would put into play the long-ago bargain made between Faerie and the human called Trinity. All that was understood was that by way of a dream the chosen king would know of his mission and the details concerning it.  
  
"A dream," Serenity whispered. "You had the dream, Father?"  
  
"Aye, a fortnight ago on All Hollows Eve." He paused for a moment, hesitant to speak the question in his mind. "Serenity," he finally said, "has you mother.did she.have you had a mother-daughter talk with her yet?"  
  
So many thoughts darted through Serenity's mind, she didn't even hear her father's question. "Oh, but how wonderful, Father! You must be terribly flattered, are you not? To be the chosen monarch.Pegasus!" she exclaimed, bending to stroke her pet, "did you hear, sweetling? Is the Trinity male or female, Father? When will the wedding be? Which fairy will marry---"  
  
"The Trinity is male," King Wisdom interrupted, knowing that she would chatter merrily on if he did not stop her. "And you, Serenity, are the fairy who will marry him and bear his child."  
  
Her father's declaration so shocked Serenity that she dissolved into a swirling mist of silver light.  
  
King Wisdom sighed again. Ever since she'd been a child, Serenity had sought refuge from difficult situations by fading into a sparkling mist. Raeiana, on the other hand, burst into flames and burned furiously until her emotions settled.  
  
Mist and flames, the king mused. His daughters could not have been more different. A shame that Raeiana did not possess a bit of Serenity's gentleness and compassion and Serenity did not possess a tad of Raeiana's temper and audacity. If that were so, both would possess well-rounded characters.  
  
Tapping his foot on the ground, the king waited for Serenity to reappear. He knew his wait would not be long, for fairy emotions came and went as quickly as the sparkle of a star.  
  
In the next second, Serenity materialized form within her glistening haven. "Me---me, Father? I am to marry the Trinity?"  
  
Raeiana rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Of course, you! You always get everything, do you not? You're heiress to father's throne, are you not? You'll be the queen one day, will you not? Well, now you're the chosen savior of our race. The fairy who will be forever remembered as the Pillywiggin who saved us all by bringing a half-human child into our midst. And what have I ever gotten, I ask you? Nay a thing, that's what!" The king rubbed his pounding temples as Raeiana threw a fiery tantrum and turned herself into a spinning ball of red-hot blazes. "Raeiana, please."  
  
Gradually, Raeiana cooled down until only her eyes continued to burn with anger.  
  
The king turned back to Serenity. "You are aware of the details of my grandfather's plan?"  
  
Words rarely failed Serenity, but now she found herself unable to reply. Only moments before she'd been fantasizing over having in her possession the handsome black-haired man who rode the huge ebony horse, and now she was to wed a man she'd never seen. Sweet everlasting, how quickly her life had changed!  
  
"You will marry the Trinity and conceive his babe," King Wisdom reminded her. "My grandchild will be born, will mature, wed, and procreate in Pilliwiggin. Of course, we cannot be certain if the babe will inherit the powers of Faerie, but just having the half-human amongst us will strengthen us. So much so that many couples in my kingdom will again begin to reproduce."  
  
Worry replaced Serenity's surprise. How long would she be forced to stay in the human world?  
  
The king took her hand. "Do not despair, my child. I would never permit you to remain in the human world for more time than is necessary. Never, do you understand? And do not forget that you can nay stay outside of Faerie for more than three months, anyway. You would perish if you remained in the mortal world any longer."  
  
As his words fell over the assembly, so did silence. Long-lived as fairies were, the subject of death was rarely broached.  
  
"Only one thing could save the fairy from certain demise in the mortal world," King Wisdom continued solemnly, "and that is a thing called human love, an intense emotion that is born and flows from deep within the highly vulnerable human heart. This love is capable of bestowing deep, indescribable joy upon those who share it. Alas, as fairies we cannot begin to comprehend the feeling, for we lack the strength, substance, and depth necessary to bear such profound emotions.  
  
"'Tis a strange thing, really," he murmured. "The members of Faerie possess great powers, but the magic of human love.'Tis the mightiest force in all of creation."  
  
All the fairies present began to ponder their ruler's declarations until Rae's loud questions interrupted their deliberation. "What if Serenity fails to get the Trinity to marry her? And if by some frightfully slim chance he does make her his bride, what if she fails to get with child before the three months pass? Will you then send another fairy to take her place, Father? One who will most certainly succeed where she failed? Like me, for instance?"  
  
King Wisdom scowled. "Raeiana, take care that your envy does not turn your violet eyes green. Serenity is a very beautiful fairy. As are you," he added quickly. "There is no doubt that the Trinity will desire to make your sister his bride."  
  
Glaring at her sister, Rae kicked at the mound of red and yellow leaves. "If you think I'm one bit jealous, think again, Serenity. You have to marry one of those humans! 'Tis a pity you cannot simply live with the Trinity for a while and get with child without having to become his wife."  
  
"Raeiana!" King Wisdom cried. "How can you suggest that Serenity produce a child out of wedlock? My grandchild will bear is father's name, you may be sure of that!"  
  
Rae started to argue further, but the sound of hoof beats in the distance cut her short. "The time has come, Serenity," the king said, throwing Rae a final look of displeasure. "The Trinity is near. You must swiftly show yourself to him. He will succumb to your beauty, become instantly enchanted, and you will soon become his bride."  
  
He took her hand, started to guide her toward the edge of the forest, but then stopped. "Serenity, about the mother-daughter talk your mother was supposed to give you.In order for you to conceive the Trinity's child you must.There are many differences between humans and fairies, of course, but-- -"  
  
He broke off, noticing all the fairies were listening avidly. This was not the sort of conversation to have in front of his subjects, he realized. "Suffice it to say that the Trinity will get you with child in the same way that fairy men sire children."  
  
"But what is this manner, Father."  
  
King Wisdom heard the hoof beats come closer. "I've no time to explain. 'Twill be the Trinity who will describe and perform the act."  
  
"And.and as soon as I have conceived, I may return to Pillywiggin?"  
  
"You most definitely will return," he declared. "You are of Faerie, and 'tis here where you belong."  
  
"But how will I know when I have conceived, Father? Who will tell me that I am with child?"  
  
The king smiled. "You will know, Serenity. At the very moment of conception, you will feel the creation of life take place inside you, and you will also sense the gender of the babe. 'Tis a beautiful gift all fairy women possess."  
  
Serenity quieted then, wondering what such a miracle might feel like. But when her father began urging her to the edge of the woods, she came out of her silent contemplation and resisted with all the slight strength her fragile body held. "Father, wait! I...The Trinity---will he know that I am of Faerie? And if he does not, do I tell him?"  
  
The king stopped in his silver tracks. Shrewd though he was, no member of Faerie fully comprehended human nature. "I am unsure," he admitted softly. "As I said, human emotions are different than ours, for the humans' strength and substance allow them to feel much more deeply and for much longer periods of time. However, I imagine the Trinity will learn of your lineage whether you choose to tell him or not. He might see you use your powers or dissolve into your mist. And do not forget, Serenity, that you cannot remain tall forever. Your strength will wane, and you will be forced to shrink to Pillywiggin size to regain your energies. 'Tis possible that you might feel the need to dwindle in stature while in his presence."  
  
Uncertainty made Serenity want to seek the solitude of her mist, but she stubbornly refused to give in to the temptation. She could not help her tears, however. The tiny diamonds escaped her wide eyes and sprinkled down upon the bed of leaves.  
  
"Come now," the king ordered.  
  
Quickly, Serenity's anxiety vanished. She glided to the edge of the forest, Rae and the other fairies following.  
  
"There he is," the King whispered, pointing toward the pasture. "The Trinity. He comes in the exact manner I saw him in my dream. On his black horse in the meadow."  
  
Serenity saw her human man riding through the field, his big black horse bringing him closer and closer to the forest. "Him? He's the Trinity?" "Aye, child. He is the Trinity."  
  
"Sweet everlasting!" Such joy filled Serenity's being that the brilliance of her glow rivaled that of the sun itself. For three whole months, the Trinity would be hers, the most precious possession she'd ever owned!  
  
"Now, Serenity!" her father shouted. "Go now!"  
  
She needed no further urging. Stars twinkling all around her, she swept out of the forest and skimmed over the meadow, her long hair flowing behind her like golden sunbeams. Wanting the Trinity's first sight of her to be a perfect picture of charm and elegance, she flew in the most graceful manner she knew, one arm stretched out before her and the other held softly out to the side.  
  
But the strong breeze upset her winsome pose, hurling her frail form through the air with mighty force.  
  
In the next second she saw the source of her trouble. Pegasus sailed at her feet. His powerful white wings stirred up a wind her slight frame could not withstand, thrusting her forward so violently that she knew she would soon be blown away. Her hair whipping around her, she began to flail her arms and kick her legs in a vain effort to regain control.  
  
"Pegasus, nay!" she shouted.  
  
The swan seemed not to hear her. On the contrary, he stretched out his long neck and began to flap his wings with quicker, stronger strokes.  
  
Just as she feared, Serenity blew over the meadow like a puffball in a tornado. A keen sense of helplessness overwhelming her, she closed her eyes tightly, hoped for the best....and crashed directly into Darien Endymion Shields. 


	6. chapter 3

A basket of Wishes  
By: usagi_serenity_tsukino_hime  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Darien saw a burst of silver light, then a flash of white before Hades shied, bucked, and reared.  
  
Unprepared for his horse's sudden panic, His Grace fell off the frightened stallion and toppled to the cold ground. Pain surged through his head; his thoughts swayed dizzily through his mind. He felt displaced, as if he wasn't really there but was only watching what was happening from another place.  
  
He shut his eyes.  
  
Stars danced before him. Not unusual, considering the hard fall he'd taken. But why did he think he smelled spring wildflowers? The fresh fragrance was so real, it was almost as if he were lying amidst a bed of the fragile blossoms.  
  
May flowers in November? God, his fall must have been worse than he'd realized.  
  
He lay motionless, still watching stars twinkle. A moment later, he felt as though something pressed against his chest. It didn't weigh much, but it was there, just like the scent of wildflowers that lingered around him.  
  
He opened his eyes and saw other eyes. Baby blue eyes, and they gazed at him with a combination of curiosity and pleasure. Full of sparkle and fringed with long, thick lashes, they were the sweetest, most mesmerizing eyes Darien had ever beheld, and he felt powerless to look away from them.  
  
The owner of the pretty blue eyes lay fully upon him, and it wasn't at all difficult to discern her sex. The only thing she was wearing was the cloak of her silvery-blonde hair, the alluring perfume of spring wildflowers...  
  
And stars. The tiny lights shimmered all over her.  
  
She looked like an angel.  
  
Disbelief slammed into him. "Am---am I dead?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
An angel wouldn't lie, Darien decided. He wasn't dead. Closing his eyes again, he strove for a plausible explanation.  
  
Maybe he'd been knocked unconscious. Perhaps the naked, sweetly scented girl was but a dream, a figment of his senseless state. A real person wouldn't go strolling through fields without clothes on---especially on a chilly November day. A dream would also explain her slight weight. After all, she was composed of nothing but his imagination and a myriad of silver stars.  
  
But he didn't feel asleep. Indeed, he was fully aware of every sight, scent, and sound around him.  
  
What the bloody hell was happening to him?  
  
He opened his eyes, looked at the girl, and again saw the sparkles swirling around her. Either she was a fantasy or a constellation had fallen from the sky into his arms. And since a fantasy was more believable, Darien realized that he was definitely in the throes of a dream, the most realistic he'd ever experienced.  
  
"Hello," she said.  
  
The fragile dream spoke, and Darien decided her voice was softer than the stirring of a bird's wing. Her breath wafted across his chin, warm like sunbeam, and her pale pink lips curved into a shy, lovely smile that wrinkled her small nose in a most enchanting manner.  
  
"Your scent is supremely pleasant," she told him. "'Tis the sort one might come upon while meandering through the woods in the winter."  
  
Ordinarily, Darien would not have returned a smile given him by a naked stranger lying on top of him, but since he was obviously out cold he felt perfectly free to participate in and enjoy his dream to the fullest. Not only did he smile back at her but he lifted his hands from the ground and gently clasped her tiny, bare waist.  
  
She was warm and soft, and her scent of wildflowers flowed through his senses like petals drifting on a gentle breeze.  
  
"Oh," Serenity whispered when he touched her. Strength began to trickle through her limbs. Gradually, the energy she'd lost during her chaotic flight across the meadow returned to her, and it was with great relief that she realized she would not be forced to shrink to fairy size to regain what little vigor she possessed.  
  
She shifted, lifting her head form the Trinity's broad shoulder and trailing her fingers lightly across his temple. His pulse thumped beneath the tips of her fingers. A strong and steady beat, it reminded her anew of the power locked within his massive frame, and she understood then that the strength she felt flowing through her was not her own, but his.  
  
Excitement rushed through her. Her great-grandfather and father had been right! Just being close to a human bolstered a fairy's vitality.  
  
"You've wonderful eyes," she told him, her gaze locked with his. "There are some who believe rain has no color, but I will tell you now that they are wrong. Rain is silver and iridescent, like the wing dust of certain butterflies and moths. When you rub those wings, the dust glistens on your fingertip. 'Tis a lovely thing to see. Your eyes are such a silver, like rain and the glistening wing dust combined with the color of the night at midnight, and I do not think staring into them hour upon hour would be a difficult task.  
  
Darien thought about what she'd said. No woman had ever commented on the color of his eyes before.  
  
"And your lips," Serenity said. "Full and soft and slightly parted, and I have a glimpse of your teeth, which are as white as the water lilies that float in the pond where I bathe. You have no hair on your face. I am glad for that, for if you wore a beard, I would nay have discovered the dimple on your right cheek. 'Tis a mark I find quite dashing."  
  
"You chatter," he said, grinning.  
  
"Aye. I cannot help it. I have tried to help it, but there are so many, many things that occur to me that I fear I would burst if I could not somehow release them. Sometimes, however, I am as quiet as the falling of a snowflake. Many believe me ill when I am so quiet, but I have only been ill once in my life. A cat scratched me. He was a black cat with eyes as green as poison. My skin is sensitive, and the cat scratch caused me such torment that I took to my bed and did not rise for a full fortnight. The cat would have eaten me alive, and I'm sure that there can be no death more horrible. I do not like cats. Not at all. I am fond of hens and rabbits, however, because they don't chase me as cats do."  
  
"Rabbits," he echoed his mind spinning with all the things she'd told him. "Cats chase you?"  
  
"Aye, but rabbits and hens do not."  
  
He smiled again. He simply couldn't help it. There was something so sweet, so good about her. "Sprite," he said softly, touching one of her shimmering blonde curls.  
  
She frowned slightly. Did he know of her Faerie origins? "Why do you call me so?"  
  
"Sprite? You remind me of one."  
  
"You have seen sprites?"  
  
He smiled indulgently. "No, but I'm sure they look like you. Delicate. And shimmery, with impish smiles and whimsical ways about them."  
  
He didn't know what she was, she realized. Sprite was only a pet name. "I am supremely certain," she said, "that you are the most beautiful creature ever to draw breath." Her gaze caressing his face once more, she grinned at him.  
  
And no power on earth could have kept Darien from kissing that dreamy, dazzling smile. Drawn to her ethereal beauty and intrinsic goodness, he gently pressed his lips to hers and knew he had never encountered such sweetness. She tasted like warm honey---literally---as if she had just partaken of the luscious substance and it yet clung to her lips.  
  
"What---what is this you do?" Serenity whispered, her mouth still touching his.  
  
Darien ended the kiss and saw true bewilderment floating within her luminous eyes. Well, she was only an illusion, he reminded himself. A beautiful and innocent chimera who had no way of knowing what a kiss was.  
  
Far be it from him to allow her to end before he'd tutored her in the art of sensuality.  
  
"It's called a kiss, and we were kissing."  
  
She thought about that for a moment, but could make no sense of it. "Why do you do it?"  
  
"You didn't like it?"  
  
She looked at his lips again. "It didn't repulse me in the slightest."  
  
Her answer rankled. This was his fantasy, damn it all, and he would dream it the way he wanted, with her writhing in his arms.  
  
He clutched her slight shoulders and touched his lips to hers once more. A low moan escaped him as he drove his tongue into her mouth, seeking and finding more of her delectable sweetness.  
  
Surprised though she was by his strange actions, Serenity felt filled with such incredible strength that she was certain she could fly around the world. At the very least she felt she could remain human sized for several days without having to shrink.  
  
"Now how do you feel?" Darien asked smugly.  
  
"Strong! Why, I never been this strong! 'Tis magnificent this kissing!"  
  
Strong? Darien repeated mentally. He'd rather hoped that his kiss would make her weak with desire.  
  
Slowly, he slid his hands up the sides of her body, then moved them over her chest. Her breasts barely filled his palms, but their size didn't disappoint him in the least, for they were two handfuls of exquisite softness.  
  
And the sudden stiffening of her rosy nipples assured him he was making sensual progress. Gliding his hands downward again, he moved her hips so that they fit into the cradle of his.  
  
Serenity felt his loins pressing into her. Confused, fascinated, and curious, she rotated her hips over the thick, turgid feel of him. "You have become hard and hot, like sunbaked stone. And you grow in size. The way you have changed...'Tis as if by magic."  
  
"Magic?" he smiled. "No, sprite. It's your beauty that brings about such changes."  
  
His statement made her forget to take her next breath. "You say I'm beautiful," she whispered. "That can only mean that you have succumbed. You will now admit your enchantment with me."  
  
At her bold demand and imperious tone of voice Darien raised a brow. No one but the queen and a dream would dare to speak to him thus.  
  
"I am waiting," Serenity said.  
  
He decided to indulge her. She was, after all, only a fantasy. "Very well, I am enchanted, miss," he complied, smoothing his hands over the pale swells of her bottom. "Exceedingly so. But I hardly think that being enchanted with a dream will serve much purpose other than allowing me a small time of enjoyment before I wake up."  
  
Serenity raised her head from his shoulder, her action spilling her thick hair over the side of his face. He thought her a dream? Sweet everlasting, how was she to convince him she was real?  
  
Pegasus solved the problem for her. The graceful swan descended from the sky, landed next to Darien's head and, with one quick motion bestowed a stinging peck upon His Grace's ear.  
  
"Bloody Hell!" Darien shouted.  
  
"One cannot feel pain in a dream, can one?" Serenity asked, sliding her finger down the length of the great bird's neck. "This is Pegasus. I'm sure he gave you a love bite when he nipped at your ear, but I shall nay know for certain until I have a word with him later."  
  
Darien's ear stung viciously, and it came to him then that his head continued to throb, though only slightly now.  
  
He felt pain.  
  
This was not a dream! The naked girl was real, and he'd touched her breasts and derriere. He, the duke of Heathcourte, had lain in a field pawing a girl whose name he did not even know.  
  
"Arise so that I may do the same," he commanded.  
  
Serenity rose to her feet.  
  
Darien began to stand as well, but stopped in mid-action, completely unable to take his eyes off her. He'd realized her hair was long, but he hadn't known those rich, silver tresses fell to her ankles. Shining against her alabaster skin, they looked like pale wheat upon freshly fallen snow. Never had he seen such glorious hair!  
  
"You're angry now?" Serenity asked, disturbed by the way he'd ordered her to rise. "I don't understand how one can become so angry without just cause. Do you have cause that is unknown to me? If that is so, you will tell me the reasons for your anger so that I may soothe them, for I assure you nothing would give me more pleasure."  
  
Her quicksilver chatter floating through his thoughts, Darien remained silent. But his gaze continued to roam down the length of her body. One pert breast was clearly visible, as was one pale, slender thigh.  
  
Absurd though his situation was, he could not dismiss his desire.  
  
"Will you nay answer me?" Serenity pressed.  
  
He couldn't for the life of him remember what she'd asked him, and the loss of his wits promptly pricked his anger again. "It has never been my habit to converse with naked women while stretched out in the middle of a blasted meadow, for God's sake. Indeed, this is quite the most preposterous thing that has ever happened to me!"  
  
He swiftly gained his feet. "Listen, and listen well," he said, his voice low and threatening as distant thunder. "When I fell off my horse, my first thought was that I was dead. Then I decided I'd been knocked unconscious. I believed you to be a dream, and that is the only reason I touched you the way I---"  
  
"But I am nay a dream. I am---"  
  
"I am aware of that and you will not interrupt me again!"  
  
His harsh command flustered her tender feelings. No one had ever spoken to her thus. As princess royal of Pillywiggin, she was afforded the highest respect and courtesy from all her father's subjects.  
  
She saw the first twinkles of her mist appear around her, but realized she could not dissolve right in front of the Trinity's eyes.  
  
She wept instead.  
  
Darien watched her tears fall down her cheeks and splash to the ground. The droplets resembled tiny diamonds, and he knew a moment of guilt for yelling at her.  
  
His remorse, however quickly it had come and gone, further piqued him. He'd never felt contrite over anything in his life, had no cause to feel a jot of guilt now, and could not comprehend why he did. "You will stop that sniveling and give me your name."  
  
In an instant, her sorrow lifted. She felt calm again until noticing the Trinity's eyes had changed from the color of the midnight sky to the color of hard gray iron.  
  
Iron. The metal had the power to divest a fairy of her powers, and every member of the Faerie possessed a profound fear of the evil substance.  
  
She stepped away.  
  
"Stop backing away from me and give me your name!"  
  
She stopped. And swallowed. And stared. And for one fraction of a second she saw again the boy he'd once been. The boy so filled with yearning.  
  
The boy who believed in wishing.  
  
And then he was gone, replaced by the grim, no-nonsense man he'd become.  
  
The Trinity needed joy, she reminded herself. He needed all his wishes granted.  
  
"For the last time, who are you?" Darien flared.  
  
"Who am I?" she answered absently, still concentrating on her memories of him.  
  
"Very well, Miss No Name, perhaps you can tell me why you are not wearing clothing?"  
  
"What?"  
  
What the bloody hell was wrong with the girl? Darien wondered. She acted as though she was in some kind of daze. "Why aren't you wearing any clothes?"  
  
Serenity looked down at herself, suddenly understanding how strange it was for him to see a woman without clothing. All the humans she'd ever seen wore some form of apparel, while the fairies of Pillywiggin did not possess a stitch.  
  
"Clothing," she whispered, wondering why someone in Pillywiggin hadn't thought to suggest she don garments. "I...Oh, sweet, sweet everlasting!"  
  
At her obvious distress, Darien knew a vague sense of alarm. Something was very wrong. He fought to remember what had happened before he'd discovered her lying on top of him, but all that came to mind was a burst of silver light and a flash of white. "What were you doing in this meadow?"  
  
She almost answered she'd been flying, but caught herself immediately. "I...Well, you see, I was..." unable to think of an answer that would seem logical to a human, she bowed her head and twisted her hair around her slender fingers.  
  
Her lack of a response deepened Darien's uneasiness. The girl didn't know her name, couldn't explain why she was naked, and had no idea what she'd been doing in the field. It occurred to him then that she might have had some sort of accident, one that had perhaps erased her memory.  
  
But what could have happened to her?  
  
He stiffened when a sudden suspicion came to him. He'd been riding through the meadow, he recalled, so angry and frustrated over his lack of a duchess that he'd not paid the slightest heed to his stallion's pace or path. In fact, he'd given the horse free rein. The burst of silver light and the flash of light...obviously a blot of lightning.  
  
But there was not a cloud in the sky, and he couldn't remember hearing a bit of thunder. Hadn't felt a single raindrop either.  
  
Just one sudden and inexplicable streak of lightning that had caused Hades to shy.  
  
Darien clenched his teeth. Dear God, he must have run straight into this girl! It was the only conclusion that would explain why he'd found the lass on top of him after his spill from Hades' back. Why she was naked, he couldn't fathom, but he felt certain that he was to blame for her apparent head injury.  
  
He would have to take her home with him Damn it all.  
  
He stepped toward her. Unsure as to whether she would allow him to take her to his home, he clasped her elbow and gave her a stern look. "I am Darien Endymion Shields, duke of Heathcourte. I am taking you to my residence, and I will not tolerate a word of argument. You will be seen by a physician who will evaluate your condition and prescribe proper treatment. Since I am accountable for whatever injuries you have sustained, you need not concern yourself with the physician's charges or any other expenditures related to your full recovery. Do you understand?"  
  
Serenity understood only one thing---that he was taking her to his home. "Aye, Darien," she murmured through her smile. "I understand."  
  
At her extreme breach of etiquette, he scowled. "I have not given you leave to address me thus. You will call me 'Your Grace.'"  
  
"Aye, My Grace," she replied, too happy to notice his frown of displeasure.  
  
"Not My Grace---Your grace!"  
  
"What? But 'tis what I---"  
  
"No, it was not! You said---"  
  
"I did not realize you had an uncivil streak."  
  
"Me? I'm not the one gallivanting around in this field without clothes, and you're calling me uncivil? "  
  
"I refer to your character. You've an element of rudeness in your makeup that distresses me."  
  
Disbelief and fury blazed through him. Not daring to speak, he jerked off his coat, draped it over her shoulders, then lifted her off the ground. Her slight weight astonished him anew. She was tall, her eyes level with his mouth, and yet he felt as though he held a small child in his arms.  
  
Not only did she suffer a head injury, but she was obviously starving, he realized. God only knew when she'd eaten last.  
  
And yet her skin glowed. He imagined he could still see tiny stars shimmering upon her. How odd that someone as unwell as she possessed such radiance about her.  
  
"You are taking me to your home now?" Serenity asked.  
  
Still too angry to speak, he merely glared at her, and, holding her fragile body within the curve of his right arm, he used his left arm to pull himself into the saddle.  
  
Just as he swung his leg over the horse's back, Serenity saw that his foot was firmly encased within the hollow of the stirrup.  
  
The iron stirrup.  
  
She shrieked and pulled her legs into her chest so that her body formed a tight ball. Shaking with fright, she then lowered her arms and opened her hands. From the cups of her palms sprays of tiny silver stars fell over the stirrups.  
  
In the next moment, the stars faded and both stirrups dropped to the ground.  
  
Darien tensed, sitting as still as a frozen pillar. Finally, he glanced down. Total mystification enveloped him as he stared at his dangling feet.  
  
"My Grace?" Though Serenity knew his disbelief stemmed from the bit of magic she'd done, she could not bring herself to admit to her fairy powers. "You were about to take me to your home, were you not?"  
  
"The stirrups," he whispered, still staring at his dangling feet. "They... they dropped... just dropped off and yet the stirrup leathers are perfectly intact. I don't understand how---"  
  
He had no time to finish his statement. Spurred on by a touch more of Serenity's magic, Hades took off at a full run toward the mansion, a sprinkling of silver stars glittering in his wake.  
  
Every thought in Darien's mind vanished as he fought to stay mounted, a difficult task without benefit of stirrups. It was not until Hades stopped before the manor that His Grace was able to relax.  
  
What in God's name had gotten into the stallion? He wondered. Hades, though high spirited, had never behaved in such a manner. And how odd that the horse had gone to the house rather than the barns. Ordinarily the steed headed straight for the water and sweet feed he knew he'd be given after a long ride.  
  
Shaking his head, Darien tossed the reins to a servant, then noticed the parish vicar standing on the marble steps that led to the front door of the house. Darien guessed Reverend Shrewsbury had most likely come to collect a monetary contribution, a mission the man performed at least twice a month.  
  
Wonderful, Darien thought dismally. After all that had happened today, a sanctimonious sermon from the long-winded man about the merits of generosity was just what he needed. "Reverend," he muttered in greeting.  
  
The vicar's eyes widened and his mouth dropped wide open. "Your Grace!"  
  
The reverend's shock confounded Darien until he realized what caused it. Not a little embarrassment caused him to grit his teeth so hard that his jaw began to ache. Grass and dirt clung to his hair and clothes, indisputable evidence that he'd been rolling around on the ground. And the wisp of a girl snuggled against his chest gave proof that he had not been cavorting in the meadow alone.  
  
He could only imagine what scandalous conclusions were assaulting Reverend Shrewsbury's puritanical senses.  
  
"Who is that man, My Grace?" Serenity asked. "Why, he looks as though he just swallowed a bumblebee!"  
  
Darien sighed through his clenched teeth. He managed however, to find some semblance of control...until he glanced down at the wiggling lass in his arms.  
  
His coat had slipped off her shoulders.  
  
She was naked again.  
  
In front of the vicar.  
  
Bloody Hell. 


End file.
